you are the lucid dream

i've been meaning to write frequently again, but it seems studies has other plans for me! but i am happy knowing that even if i do not pen down much, my mind is always furiously at work even as the din of centrifuge machines are in the background and the flame of a bunsen burner keeps me warm in the lab (for some reason they have set the temperature slightly lower than what i would have liked).

regardless, i have the time now, if only a couple of minutes, and i should like to write of my nightmare of last evening. that i may remember and laugh in the future, that even the most monstrous evils are only in my mind - my supervisor (she's actually a very charming, understanding person, but for some reason she was the main 'villain' in my dream), my brother (who, again is a decent person, but for no apparent reason, chased me down with sticks and some steampunk-esque branding iron), a ghost of some sort (i cannot remember if it was an alien or a ghost, a werewolf or a behemoth, a siren or a troll. for all i know it could have been pablo picasso, but what is important is there was something terrible ready to devour me at the moment's mention from my supervisor, and it stood there, by her side, all throughout the nightmare, more a symbol or promise of demise than actually affecting me in any way), and last, but certainly by far nowhere the least, the amouration of my living being, the curse of what is promised to be love, sbr (you haunt me even in my dreams! how silly).

i woke after an hour's sleep or so (which is not that much, for me, for on some days i will sleep up to 10 hours. such is the luxury of my own timekeeping), at approximately 11, and the twilight had only begun to creep in, which is quite counterintuitive, as darkness had already set by 6 o'clock. sweat upon my brow but none elsewhere, i gasped for water, which i had unusually placed upon my bedstand, and upon relieving myself of an apparent thirst, i continued to sleep and wake on a half-hourly basis till i could no longer put myself through another bout of such torment - and found myself doing work at about 4 a.m.

8 hours later, here i write, my mind slightly scrambled, my thoughts incoherent at best, but it seems that all had come for a reason, that i would know that you are no longer upon a pedestal. you are no longer exaltation. you are but. you are mere. you are shallow and insincere. you are the lucid dream.